NaNoWriMo 2007 (Sequel to 2005) - Anime-Style Story - Chapter 6

[kashiwrites]

Chapter 5


Chapter 6

“I can’t believe,” Akio said, “that we’ve got an exam already in astrophysics. It hasn’t even been three weeks.”

He stood beside the table, having wandered over in the middle of breakfast. He stood between Julie’s and Kenji’s chairs, a hand on each of their shoulders as he expounded on the evils of setting a major exam so soon after school had started. The orange light of Jupiter, from the gigantic wall screen behind him, made his blue hair look a rather muddy brown.

Jin caught Julie’s eye, and they both smiled. They listened to Kenji and Akio compare notes for a while as they ate. Chika, across the table from them, cast an interested eye at the two gentlemen occasionally, but remained silent as she ate her pancakes. She seemed to have something on her mind, and had spent most of breakfast musing on it. She was also drinking an awful lot of coffee this morning; if Jin had counted right, she was on her third cup.

“I know what you mean,” Kenji was saying. “I expected more about quasars before they got thrown onto a test.”

“It would be so much better to combine the astrophysics and space travel courses, don’t you think?” Akio mused. “I’d like that better.”

“Well…they’re really not identical, but I know what you mean. There’s a lot of overlap.”

“Maybe we should start a petition,” Akio grinned. “Think that would fly?”

“Oh yeah,” Kenji snickered. “It would fly, all right. They’d put it on a space ship and launch it to Mars. It could be waiting to meet us when we finally get there.”

Akio laughed, glancing over Julie’s head and over the intervening tables, toward the door. “Well, there’s Miaki, finally coming for breakfast. He looks like he should have slept in even longer.”

All the heads at the table turned as Miaki drew near, and they saw what Akio meant. Their friend’s face was grey with weariness, even though he made a bleary attempt to smile at everyone as he pulled out his chair. The two horizontal blue stripes across his cheek stood out more than usual against his unusually pale face. Of course they, like Akio’s hair, appeared more brown than blue in this light.

“Miaki,” Chika blurted. “Are you okay? Where’s Toshi?”

He glanced at her in surprise. “I’m not sure. I think he came to breakfast early.”

“He’s over there,” Akio pointed, “with some of those third years.” Some of the breakfast party peered to where he pointed, and saw that Toshi was indeed sitting with some of his classmates, apparently involved in telling a riotously funny story. Akio watched Miaki’s face, and asked, “Is everything all right? He usually sits with you. Did you guys fight again?”

Miaki stared at him. “’Again’?” he repeated tensely.

“Sorry. I guess I’m being too nosy. But some of us have noticed that he’s been really irritated with you lately, when we didn’t think he had any reason. I’ve just been hoping everything’s okay. It’s not like him at all.”

Miaki sat heavily in his chair. He muttered, “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Chika interjected, “But we do need to talk about him. As soon as possible.”

He gave her a sharp glance. “You’ve found out something.” It wasn’t even a question.

She nodded. “I got going on a hunch, and ended up working on it all night. I’ve finally figured it out.”

Akio squeezed both Julie’s and Kenji’s shoulders. “Well,” he said, “I think that’s my cue to leave you guys alone to talk. But remember my offer – I hope these two have told you I made it. If you need help, with anything at all, any time – you just ask.” He turned and strode away.

“I’m beginning to think,” Julie murmured, “that he really does mean it, and really is worried.”

“He does seem to be a pretty good guy,” Kenji agreed.

“But for now, Chika” said Jin, “I think you should tell us what you’ve found out about Toshi.”

The older student looked carefully around, to make sure nobody at nearby tables was close enough to hear. “It’s a virus,” she said. “It was embedded in that weird code that Toshi touched. And I was right – it was aimed directly at him. I still haven’t figured out who stuck it in there, because it was added on to sims that had already been created. He was right about that part.”

“A virus,” Miaki repeated. “So it infected his avatar…”

“No, it was deeper than that,” she shook her head. “His whole log-in, and everything. If it was just his avatar, he’d only have needed to log in with a different avatar and he’d have been fine. But it’s his whole online identity.”

“No,” Miaki said, hands tightening into fists on the table before him. He stared at them as though waiting for them to do something terrible. “It’s not just his whole online identity.”

Jin murmured, “It’s his real life personality too. He’s not just tired, like he keeps saying.”

“That’s right.” Still Miaki didn’t lift his head. “The virus zapped him – not just in the VR world, but through to his actual, physical body in real life too.”

“You mean,” Kenji faltered, looking from one to the other, “an online virus is affecting his real world body? But – but that’s impossible!”

“It was also impossible,” Jin said, “for a VR simulation to have any effect in a real world location. But we learned about that the hard way, last year.”

Julie jabbed her fork into a piece of bacon. “So you’re saying somebody set this code bundle into the simulation, and set it specifically to go off when Toshi touched it.”

“In more than one simulation, actually,” Kenji said. “I think we’ve found it in at least four of the sims in the files.”

“Eight, actually,” Chika replied morosely. “I’ve gone through all of them and did a universal search for that specific code bundle, and found eight, placed in folders from second-year to fourth-year. I still have to find out who put them there, and when. But I’m sure it was sometime after, or at the end of, what we were involved in last year. I think either Yoshida or Suzuki probably inserted them even before we publicized the plot, as a backup precaution of some kind. As far as I can tell, they were set to lie low for the rest of last school year, and only activate when the new term began.”

“So I guess,” Kenji grumbled, “that it’s pretty much for sure that there’s a connection to my father, no matter who designed them.”

“Oh, I already know there is,” said Chika.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

She watched him uncomfortably, and looked around again to make sure no one could hear. Then lowered her voice, so that the others had to lean forward to catch her words. “I found something else, when I discovered that the code bundles were directed at Toshi.” She hesitated, her eyes back on Kenji. “There was a trigger, and without that trigger the virus wouldn’t be activated, even if Toshi grabbed the code and stomped on it with boots on.”

“So what’s the trigger?” Julie asked.

“I was there,” Kenji blurted. “I was with him when he touched it and got shocked. That’s it, isn’t it? I’m the trigger. Aren’t I?”

Chika nodded glumly. “I’m sorry, Kenji. That’s right. The virus wouldn’t be activated unless you were with Toshi when he touched it.”

“I knew it. I knew it!” He pushed back his chair, swatted away Julie’s reaching hands, and almost ran away from the table.

In an instant, Miaki was after him, catching him halfway across the dining hall, a hand gripping his friend’s arm to pull him up short between a couple of tables full of students. “Kenji, it’s all right, don’t be upset, we’ll figure something – “

“It’s not all right! How can you say that??”

“I know this is tough for you, but it isn’t your fault – “

“He hates me so much he’s going to destroy everything I love, and make sure I’m the one who triggers it. That’s exactly what he’s like! That’s exactly what he thinks of me!” Kenji whirled around toward Miaki, who saw that he had tears streaming down his anguished face. His friend shook off his arm and yelled, “Why didn’t you let me kill him when I had the chance, damn you??”

The dining hall fell silent as all heads turned and all eyes fixed on the duo. If there was anything more shocking than quiet, shy Kenji hollering about killing someone, nobody in the room could imagine it at that moment.

“Kenji, I…I…,” Miaki whispered.

His friend jerked out of his hands and fled the room. And a contemptuous, sarcastic voice came from behind Miaki, “So – all the little disciples aren’t doing what they’re told any longer, are they? Must be tough. A little hard on the ego, is it?”

Miaki turned slowly, and met Toshi’s eyes. His cousin stood a few feet behind him, bare arms folded across his leather vest, golden hair almost orange in Jupiter’s light, his deep blue eyes glittering with almost feverish malice. There was no trace at all of the sorrowful, weeping person who had crept into the room last night , asking forgiveness for the things he had said or might say in the future.

Somebody had to tell him what had happened, what was wrong with him. It should be Miaki who told him, in fact. It should be the person who was closest to him in the world, who cared for him more than any stranger or even a mere friend could.

But the contempt in his cousin’s eyes, and the sneer on his lips, went through Miaki like daggers. He thought he might keel over from the pain in his heart. He turned his back and staggered toward the freedom of the door, Toshi’s laughter hammering like blows at his back.

********

They finally persuaded him to meet them in the gazebo, halfway through the morning, during a period when all of them got a break or could arrange one. Jin watched as Toshi strolled casually up the walk from the entryway into the sim, diverting past the fountain as the walk split in two, and then sauntering toward the little wooden stairway up into the central structure. She saw his eyes dart around the group, and then his raised eyebrows.

“Miaki’s not here?” he said curiously. Just curiously, as though nothing at all was wrong.

“After your little display in the dining hall?” Chika retorted. “We decided not to subject him to any more grief this morning.”

“Oh, come on,” Toshi shrugged with a light laugh. “He’s got to learn to have more backbone than that. So I was a little sharp with him. It’s been two years since his father died. He needs to develop a thick skin and get over it, and stop behaving like such a delicate flower.”

“Shut up,” Kenji said, voice tight. “Just shut up and let us tell you what’s going on.” He himself sat huddled on one of the gazebo benches, knees up, arms hugged tightly around them. He had tweaked his avatar so it didn’t reveal just how red and blotchy his face was, after he’d spent an hour weeping in his room.

“I could shut up,” Toshi replied flatly, “or I could just leave.”

“No!” Julie said. “I mean – please, Tosh. There’s something important we’ve found out, that we need to tell you. Please don’t leave.”

“All right, fine.” He draped himself along another bench. “Sorry, Kenji, I’m a bit out of sorts.”

“And that’s what we need to talk about,” Chika said. “Why you’re always so ‘out of sorts’ lately. We’ve found out what it was that zapped you in the simulation a few weeks ago.”

This drew his interest immediately. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, all trace of casual humour gone. His eyes had cleared and he seemed more himself than he had for almost three weeks. “Tell me,” he said soberly.

“It’s a virus. It was designed specifically to target you, and to be triggered only when Kenji was with you. And it not only affects you online, but has somehow affected your real body as well.”

Toshi frowned, eyes still on her face, as he contemplated what she’d told him. “I see,” he murmured contemplatively. “A virus...that affects real world objects as well as virtual objects...just like those simulations last year. Yes…that would explain a lot.”

Jin was pleased to see that he was taking it seriously. She remembered, a few minutes ago, when she’d accosted Miaki after a class and told him to come to this meeting. He’d shaken his head firmly.

“I can’t be there,” he’d said. “He’ll scoff it off and not take it seriously at all if I’m there. If this virus makes him hostile to me, then he’ll likely just dismiss the whole idea if I’m anywhere nearby when he gets told.”

Jin had peered at him, searching his face. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “Is that all that’s going on here?”

He had averted his face for a moment, then turned back to her with a wry little smile. “You do know me, don’t you?” he murmured. “All right. I guess I’m avoiding him too. It wasn’t very pleasant, seeing him like that at breakfast. I’m not crazy about my personal troubles being broadcast to the entire school, for one thing. As you’ll remember. And it was...pretty hard, having him look at me the way he did.” Miaki took a deep breath, and continued. “But I’m still right about the other thing. You have to make him understand and believe about the virus, and I’m absolutely sure he’ll reject the idea if I’m there when he hears about it. I’d put up with his ridicule of me if I needed to be there for some reason. But I really do think it’s better if I’m not there, at least this first time.”

He seemed to be right, Jin thought. There didn’t seem to be any question or doubt at all on Toshi’s face right now. There was no sign that he rejected Chika’s conclusions. He knew from experience how good she was at analyzing these things, and he was still rational enough that he wasn’t about to ignore her.

“And you say,” he was still thinking aloud, “that this virus was directed at me? Not at Miaki?”

“That’s right,” Chika nodded.

“I shouldn’t have gone into the sim!” Kenji burst out. “I had other things I was doing that day – I shouldn’t have taken the break and gone to see what you were up to. I should have just logged out!”

“Now look here,” Toshi said firmly. “This isn’t your fault. You got that? You didn’t do this. I’m sure Mi — I’m sure he told you that too, didn’t he? This is just another example of what kind of person your father is – he’s really a seriously nasty bastard to use his own son this way. But that’s him, not you. You’re nothing like that. Don’t forget that, Kenji.”

“He’s right,” Julie said. “Haven’t I been telling you?”

“And it’s less important right now, who ordered this process or who actually inserted the virus into the sims,” Toshi added, “than it is to figure out how it works and how we can undo it. We can go after the bastards who did this, later.”

“You’ve got some ideas?” Jin put in. “About how it works?”

“I think the first clue is that it was directed at me, and not Miaki.” Toshi’s eyes were sober, even filtered through an avatar. “That means the goal isn’t simply to kill him or damage him.”

“Then...” Julie frowned at him uneasily. “What’s the goal? I thought that’s what they’d want. He’s caused them so much damage – wrecked all their plans, wrecked their lives, even – I thought they’d want revenge.”

“Oh, they do,” Toshi agreed grimly. “But merely killing him would be too quick, too easy. What they want is to make him suffer as much as possible, before they kill him. That’s what Mr. Tanaka’s warning to Kenji was all about, just before school started. He wants Miaki to suffer, and he’s looking forward to it. And what better way to make Miaki do that,” he bowed his head over the fists clenched on his knees, “than to force me to turn against him.”

“Dammit. Dammit.” Even tweaking his avatar, Kenji could no longer hide the distress – or the tears. He bent his head to his upraised knees, hands clutching his bright red hair. “I should have killed him! To do this to you guys – he’s evil! He’s just plain evil!”

Chika motioned Jin to come and sit nearer to Toshi, while Julie moved over to talk quietly to Kenji. “Let’s let them work it out,” she said softly, “while we learn a few more details.”

Jin nodded. “I think what we need to know first, Toshi,” she said, “is how you feel about Miaki at this minute. Compared to how you feel when he’s with you.”

He leaned his forehead on the heel of his hand. “How I feel about Miaki...You guys know how I feel about him. He’s my best friend. My brother. I – I’d die for him. Except when he’s standing right in front of me.”

“And what happens then?” Chika prompted.

“Then I...” He swallowed. “It’s like I...really dislike him. I feel all those feelings, like they’re coming right from inside me. They kind of explode upward, from...somewhere. Then I start thinking he’s a jerk, an idiot, a manipulator. God...he must be so angry with me, after the way I’ve been treating him. I wouldn’t blame him if he...hates me.”

“Don’t even start thinking that,” Chika shook her head. “After everything you’ve done for him the last couple of years? And how close you’ve been all your lives? He could never hate you, Toshi. Especially when he knows that these attitudes are provoked by the virus.”

“So...he knows about it?”

“He knew about it at breakfast.”

“When I stood there talking about his ‘little disciples’ and how hard it must be on his ego when they didn’t do what they were told any more.”

“So that’s what you said,” Jin murmured. “We were behind you, so we didn’t really hear. I wondered if I should ask him, but I thought I’d better not.”

“No,” Toshi agreed, voice shaking. “Not the way he looked...before he ran away from me. I...I made him run away from me.” When he lifted his head, he made no attempt to tweak his avatar so it would hide the tears in his eyes. “I’m really scared, you guys. I don’t want to hurt him, but the minute I see him, all this stuff starts bubbling up from inside me. I – I can’t even be sure it’s not real. Maybe I really do feel those things, somewhere deep down, and I’m a total jerk for feeling them in the first place – “

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Chika said firmly.

“Well, whether I do or not – I feel them when I see him. So the feelings might as well be real. And they’ll do just as much harm to Miaki, whether they’re real or induced.”

“Now that you know what’s causing them,” Jin said, “you might be able to fight them.”

“Yes. Yes, for sure. I hardly fought them at all before, because I didn’t know they came from outside. I thought that’s what I really felt about him. What an idiot I am! After – after everything. How could I have let those thoughts come into my head without questioning them?” He dashed his tears away angrily, with the back of a hand.

Chicka took hold of his wrist. “Are we going to have to take you in hand and talk to you,” she asked, “the way Julie’s talking to Kenji right now?” She glanced over to where the other two sat, heads close together, Julie whispering and Kenji listening glumly.

Toshi managed a faint smile. “You may just have to, now and then, until we figure something out.”

“About that ‘figuring out’,” Chika said. “I need you to get really technical with me for the next few minutes. We’re going to need to trace the effects of the virus, as much a we can, from the beginning until now. I need to see how it works before I can start devising a fix that will reverse it.”

“Right,” he nodded, blinking the tears away and setting his jaw, pulling his attention to the task ahead. “I did a little bit of work on viruses my first year, so I can write some – “

“No,” she shook her head firmly. “I’ll be doing this, Toshi – not you.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

She glanced away uncomfortably. “The problem is, from what I’ve seen already with just a bit of examination...it’s a progressive thing, this virus. It’s going to keep getting worse, in your system, until it’s reversed. It’s already well on the way to preventing you from thinking clearly about Miaki, and skewing your thoughts about him in a certain direction. But it’s likely to spread beyond just him. It’s likely to start affecting your reasoning capacity. So until we know the virus’s effects have been completely reversed – it’s better for you not to play a part in creating the fix.”

“No!” Toshi surged to his feet, horror emanating like a heat wave from his avatar. “You mean – you mean it’s not just going to make me hate Miaki – it’s going to ruin my mind? It’s going to make me crazy??”

“No,” Chika said. “Not crazy. Don’t think in those terms, Toshi. It’s just going to make the conclusions you reach less reliable than before. And that’s going to be temporary – remember that. When we reverse the virus, it will be gone.”

“Oh god,” he faltered. “I – I can’t even trust my own thinking?”

Jin could understand his fear. There was probably nothing worse, for an ISCE student, than to hear that his or her mind might become unreliable. Add this prospect on top of his fear about the virus-induced animosity toward his cousin, and it was no wonder Toshi was so horrified. She thought she’d probably be almost paralyzed, herself, when faced with these problems.

Not him, though. He turned to Chika, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his avatar reflecting all his agitation and determination. “I have to help with this somehow. I can’t just sit and – and let this happen to me without doing something about it.”

“You will do something. Go through it with me now and help me trace the virus’s path through your system. Help me find out how it works, right now, while you can still see clearly.”

The fear was almost palpable. “I – and that’s – all I can do? I can’t help you after that? I can’t do anything?”

“You can fight the thoughts and feelings as they arise. You might be able to slow the virus’s effects down, that way. Listen, Toshi,” she added soberly, “you might have the hardest work ahead of you, of any of us. Don’t think you’re doing nothing. You’ll be working a lot harder than me.”

He sat down again, plopping down on the bench as though suddenly deflated. For a moment he leaned forward, elbows on knees and head in his hands. Then he straightened up, jaw set. “All right. If this is all I can do, let’s get going.”

Jin settled to listen, and called up a holoscreen. She’d promised Miaki that he’d get all the data, so he could work on this with the rest of them. She knew Chika was making her own record, and would make sure the others all had a copy, but it never hurt to duplicate tasks for something this important. If Jin thought of anything important that Chika might have missed, she’d be able to add it to the larger record. Whatever it took, to analyze this problem and fix it. As soon as possible.

She thought for a moment of Miaki, sitting back in his room, waiting. He’d either be pacing back and forth, wondering how things were going or else, perhaps worse, sitting huddled into himself on his bed, pulling away from people as he had after his father had died.

That couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it. They had to fix this virus problem – quickly – and put an end to this torment devised by Kenji’s father. Enough was enough.


Chapter 7